That Sleeping Beauty Thing
by Nova-Janna
Summary: Hermione is put under a sleeping spell and can only be awoken by true love's first kiss. Sound familiar?
1. Default Chapter

**Disclaimer: Not mine. **

**A/N: This idea came to me in a dream. 'Cept it was me. And I don't know why I was dead asleep. Doesn't it work better when you have magic to work with?**

Hermione Granger was a smart, even brilliant young witch. She was in her sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and was doing impeccably well in her studies. At the time in March when we join her story, however, she was not conscious. Unfortunately, by this I don't mean that she is sleeping. Or perhaps you could call it that.

Perhaps I should start from the beginning.

It was late February when Hermione was walking down the hall from her arithmancy class. She was late to lunch, as was hurrying to meet Ron and Harry in the Great Hall before they had to go for Quidditch practice. (How the boys could possibly want to do anything outside in that weather was unfathomable even to Hermione, but she was accepting of her friends, and so was hurrying to make their early lunch.)

In an almost deserted hallway, however, she was postponed. I say 'almost deserted' because there were five or so other people in hallway that Hermione had failed to notice due to her engrossment in her own thoughts. Two of the five people were having a rather loud discussion at the time, which is what caused Hermione's postponement, unconsciousness, and seemingly endless sleep.

Though perhaps loud discussion is an improper use of words. In this particular case, loud discussion means a wizard's duel, which, as you probably know, can have horrible consequences. Hermione Granger was unlucky enough to have been caught in the crossfire of this particular duel.

Had she been less worried about her timing and more alert to the halls ahead of her, she would have heard the loud hexes coming from that particular hallway and would have drawn her wand, ready to fulfill her prefect duties. But she was, as I have said, not paying attention, and was hit by a rather odd combination of spells.

This particular combination of spells, which was a mix of a sleeping spell by the name of "Quietus" and a spell meant to be a rather awful jinx involving boils and odd colouring but was misspoken in such a way that it became "Amorverus," caused Hermione to fall into an almost dead sleep. I do hope you're not superstitious, and will therefore forgive my last choice of words to describe Hermione's sleeping patterns at that moment. I know Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley wouldn't.

As for them, this is where they come into our little twist of events. They gave up their Quidditch practice to go looking for Hermione, despite the belief that she was probably just in the library or caught up in a conversation with her Professor. As they soon found out, she was not.

Upon closer inspection by Madam Pomfrey and the esteemed Albus Dumbledore, it was found that Hermione was under a sleeping spell which could only be broken by true love's kiss. Seems a lot like an old muggle fairy tale, doesn't it?

**A/N: Please review if you want me to continue. **


	2. The Notice

In fact, it seemed a lot like an old muggle fairy tale to most of the school. Well, actually, that's not true, since most of the school was unfamiliar with muggle fairy tales, but they were soon filled in by various friends or acquaintances who were muggles or were just generally more adept in muggle studies.

Hermione had been moved from her spot on the cold stones, books strewn about her, into the Hospital Wing. She'd been sleeping for a number of days, and the Professors were engaging in many late-night conferences as to the solution for their situation.

Unfortunately, Albus Dumbledore was the only one who could come up with an even mildly appropriate way of dealing with the current problem. Generally, students and teachers alike would be relieved to know that their Headmaster had found a solution, for he had a knack for fixing these things. The unfortunately, in this case, was that his age seemed to have caught up with him.

Indeed, when the notice was posted, it was concluded by the greater portion of the student body that Dumbledore had finally snapped. Even Ron and Harry began to have their doubts, but the had enough faith in Dumbledore and enough will to want Hermione back that they were ready to try anything.

"Except that," Ron stated blandly as he finished reading the notice.

"Why not, Ron?" Harry replied, a smirk that would do Draco Malfoy proud.

"Because-Because," Ron stuttered meaninglessly, hoping to grasp a legitimate reason. He had liked Hermione in more than a platonic fashion for many years, and it was increasingly obvious to everyone else. However, the mere idea of telling Hermione often sent Ron into a dead faint, and that was simply thinking about it.

Oh dear, I really must stop using 'dead' as an adjective. Harry will get nervous, I'm sure of it.

"Because Draco Malfoy will have to participate!" Ron blurted out finally, simply using the statement as a device to lead Harry away from the topic at hand. He watched, satisfied, as Harry's face turned an unnatural shade of white. Come to think of it, a shade of white that would Draco Malfoy proud.

And then the thought truly struck Ron, and there was a rather loud thump as he hit the stones. Harry sighed, giving the notice one last look, a look that could be described as almost pleading, before hauling Ron to the dormitory.

It was a few moments later that Draco Malfoy strode up to the notice, curious to the piece of parchment clashing with the usually blank walls. He was lacking, at that moment, of his lackeys, (if you'll pardon the expression,) and there was no one to drag him away after he fell to the cold stones.

There were no other boys, Slytherin or otherwise, who had a similar reaction. There were a few, who, upon reading the notice, saw it as a wonderful opportunity. A few were simply disgusted, and dead set against the idea.

There you go, I did it again. Dead should be temporarily removed from my vocabulary, at least for this story. The mere idea of Hermione's sleep turning into something more might do more than make poor Ronald faint, so I'll find a thesaurus.

Continuing with the story, I'm sure you're all anxious to know what the notice actually said, as it might give reason to some of the reactions described above. Here it is then, though isn't a perfect copy. The original copy was written in Dumbledore's own hand, and I fancy that it was probably his left. Gifted people are often left-handed, though I mean no insult to my readers. I myself am I right-handed person. Of course, you might oppose that theory simply because you do not believe Dumbledore is gifted, but I'm going to copy out the notice now, before you fall asleep at your computers.

**Notice to All Young Men in Their Sixth Year**

**Hermione Granger has fallen ill from a spell, **

**Seemingly into an endless sleep. **

**After much research, it was found that the only form of revival to be used is true love's first kiss. **

**Therefore, we will be asking select young men to give Miss Granger a quick peck in the interest of her awakening. **

**Breath mints are not mandatory, though it may be preferred!**

**Albus Dumbledore**

So now you have meaning behind the reactions of many sixth-year young men from Hogwarts school of Witchcraft And Wizardry. You understand Draco Malfoy's faint, you understand the disgust, and the pleasure.

I'll let you by with a tidbit of information regarding the reactions; generally the disgust was from the Slytherins, who, as you probably know, are strongly opposed against any witch or wizard who does not have pure wizard's blood flowing through their veins. Hermione Granger, in respect, was perhaps their most hated person in that particular category.

As for the leased reactions, Hermione Granger is a bright young witch, as I have mentioned before. Her facial features are rosy, and her lips are full. Though her hair is a plain brown, perhaps as plain a brown as her eyes, it's bushiness has softened, though only by a little.

Perhaps, if you were a poet, you would describe her hair as a dark, flowing auburn mane, and her eyes as dark pools of melted chocolate, or amber. Her cheeks as rosy as that of a young child coming in out of a cold winter day to sit by a warm fire.

I, however, am not a poet, and so I describe her features as plain, with a little hint of beauty. Ronald Weasley, though, would tell you differently, though he is no poet either.

And perhaps there are others who would say differently as well, and that's what the Headmaster's purpose was. To find a young man who could awaken Hermione from the odd turn of events that had befallen her.

Speaking of the Headmaster, he sat in his office, alone save for the portraits on the wall, eyes twinkling merrily. He has often been described as looking kind and strict all at once, though as he looks down on people, it is never in a condescending way. His half-moon spectacles rest safely on the bridge of his nose, and one wonders what he is thinking.

Well, dear reader, that is my purpose. When you wonder, it is my plain and easy duty to explain. Albus Dumbledore, at this particular moment in his office, was not brooding over the current problem. Albus Dumbledore was thinking of the amusement that would follow his notice.

One wonders why he wasn't more empathetic of his student's current feelings.

But one shouldn't wonder about that too long. A Headmaster is allowed his fun, even at the expense of a rather large number of fine young men.

One of those young men in particular, a rather tall, well-rounded young man by the name of Draco Malfoy, was having the hardest time with the information on the notice. As much as I would like to tell you that the hate fueled through him and fueled at him is a mere misconception, and that really he is a misguided young teen looking for some real friends, I can not.

For you see, Draco Malfoy is not misguided. He is cruel, often heartless, and may have to kiss the one person who he hates the most. And though he has no soft spots, wouldn't do anything sweet or caring for any person, he has his weaknesses. And I'm sorry, for his sake, though I'm sure for you and Headmaster Dumbledore it will be quite the opposite, those weaknesses will come into light during this story. Often, it seems, in rather odd ways.

**A/N: Thanks to all of you who reviewed, especially my "mysterious benefactor" who gave me a very good idea for the continuation of this story. Thanks to whoever they are especially, and to all of you who showed your support. Any ideas for this story are welcome. **


	3. Pondering

**A/N: As far as I'm concerned, I haven't updated in ages. I didn't even want to begin this chapter, because I was afraid it wouldn't have the same air, that I couldn't write the same, after such a long time. When I began writing, however, things just sort of fit together. And so I give you the third chapter in my rather odd tale of love and subtle humour: **

Draco Malfoy, as I have mentioned before, was a tall and handsome young man, though as far away from the "dark" part of this particular cliché as you can get. Many girls swoon, and, though it is not known by most, Hermione Granger is not oblivious to his physical features. In fact, Hermione Granger has often looked at the aforementioned young man with what can only be described as a bitter curiousity. That of one who likes what she sees, though knows she can never have it, even just a small sample, for reasons beyond her control.

Though, perhaps, they may not be beyond her control, if she was willing to invest such time and effort in one who she is meant to loathe with all her being. Hermione, being the bright young woman that she is, did not waste more than a minute, (or five, perhaps,) on the blonde Slytherin so fondly spoken of by many young women.

On with the story. The tall, _light_, and handsome young man was sitting in his dreary dormitory in the dungeons; Oh, I'll have to pause for just a moment, dear reader, to ponder that past sentence, and, if I might say so myself, the wonderful alliteration used.

All pondering aside, I truly must be boring you to death, so, once again, I shall continue. He was sitting in his dreary dormitory in the dungeons, pondering his current predicament. Surely they did not _have_ to participate, he was thinking. All joking aside, kissing, pardon, pecking a mudblood was not a wise decision.

Please excuse my use of the term, but, as I am an omniscient and omnipotent narrator, I read the thoughts and feelings of the characters mentioned, and it is my duty to quote them correctly.

It should be noted that Draco Malfoy's hate, spite, and utter loathing of those without pureblood is partly hereditary, and partly due simply to his upbringing. Perhaps if he had been in a different place, a different time, such a worry would not be a factor to him in the least. Alas, an awfully pretty young witch needed to be awakened, he was one candidate, so to speak, in the ranks of those who might be her true love, yet things often stand in the way of true love.

Not that he would think such a thing of the unconscious witch four floors above him. His father would have much to say, he thought on the subject of kissing someone like her. He was not required to give her mouth-to-mouth, as it were, though if the need arose, he wasn't sure if he would be so against the thought. However, facades must be held up, no matter what the circumstances.

Even if she was awfully pretty, and he did think about her, though he wasn't meant to. He was awfully glad no one could read his mind. (Oh dear…)

In another part of the great castle, Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter were holding an impromptu meeting. They were certain Malfoy would not stoop so low, (his words, mind, not theirs,) to kiss Hermione, and therefore it wasn't too much of a problem.

Ron was pondering (my, the characters do an awful lot of that, don't they?) over the thought of actually kissing Hermione, something which he often thought of, and wished for. He thought, though, that he would much rather have her awake for the experience. And then there was he horrible thought that he may not be Hermione's true love, which put him in a horrible mood. Harry, being the wise young man that he is, left Ronald to his brooding and left to do some of his own.

He himself had often wondered what his true feelings for Hermione were, but had promptly dismissed them partly for Ron, and partly because she could be awfully annoying at times. (Truthfully, he thought he liked her a little bit more than he was supposed to, as a best friend, though he never told a soul. And he never will, since he's sure it would cause all sorts of havoc.)

Harry didn't have as many qualms as Ron about kissing Hermione, since he wasn't as infatuated with her as his best friend, and he was rather pleased that it was an experience he would have had in his already short life. (His life, sadly, did not last long after Hogwarts, since a lot of events including some rather nasty characters and strange tattoos on skin would cause him to come to an untimely death. He was happy, in the end, to have experienced the feeling of Hermione's lips on his, be they cold or full of life, and realized in the last great battle, how much he truly loved her. But, as you will know by the end of this story, he could not have her.)

Harry, at that point, was rather more worried about Hermione's reaction about having a rather large number of boys kiss her. She was never one for public displays of affection, and she had had few steady boyfriends. What's more, the idea of finding out who her true love was while still in school would have terrified her, perhaps into a premature death herself. (There I go again; remind me to apologize to Harry and Ronald after all this, all right?)

It was lucky, Harry thought, that she was asleep for the entire ordeal. Though, if she had been awake, then there wouldn't have been any need for any of the events before and after this point in time, so it wouldn't really have mattered. However, there were many brooders in the castle, and many Slytherins agreed to veto the entire thing, headmaster or no Headmaster.

Very few of them could bear the thought of having their true love be a half-blood, much less a no-blood, if you'll pardon the implication. Nor could they bear the thought of having their true love be a Gryffindor. Really, it was quite preposterous.

Albus Dumbledore, yes, the Headmaster himself, was brooding as well. Though his thoughts were much less serious, and that is for one reason. He knew that the thoughts of many would circle around the idea that Hermione's true love may not even go to Hogwarts, or even be in England. He knew his logic would be questioned in this instance, but he was always sure of his actions.

You mustn't worry, dear reader, about the Headmaster's sanity in this case. For, as we all know, Albus Dumbledore always knows a little more than everyone else. And what he knew, (apart from Mr. Malfoy's weaknesses, of course,) was sure to be of great shock, disgust, perhaps even amusement, to all of Hogwarts. Once they caught up with him, of course.

**A/N: You know the drill….**


	4. Ron's Moment

I believe, dearest readers, that many of you would prefer for me to stop detailing the thoughts of the characters and simply get on with the story. I would love to, truly, but I suffer from a complex disease that keeps me from getting to the point. Well, really, I'm bluffing. I just like stalling, and keeping you on the edges of your seats. Though I fancy that many of you fall forward after reading one of my rather long paragraphs, so I'll try to have a little more action in this chapter.

Don't expect too much, though, faithful followers, since I truly can't be relied on for much more than long-winded chapters that are truly quite short. It's odd how that works, isn't it?

It was the second full day of Hermione Granger's ailment, and, to all who looked in on her, she appeared to be sleeping peacefully, even dreaming. Harry had been correct, however, in assuming that she would not be lenient toward the idea of having a large horde of boys kiss her. Considering the circumstances, however, she didn't have much choice in the matter.

Harry decided he and Ron would be some of the last to give their dearest friend a quick peck, though he knew the suspense would probably kill both of them. However, he felt it would be better to know if another was her true love, to save them the pain of a semi-rejection. (Though rejection would commonly refer to something one does when one is consciously making decisions, it was Harry's logic, and he was sticking to it.)

So, at around ten O'clock of a cool fall day, Harry and Ron appointed themselves the informal observers of he proceedings in the infirmary, along with Headmaster Dumbledore. The first young man to show up was Neville Longbottom, which didn't surprise either of the three in the least.

He scuttled forward, peeking his head in the door, and was met with an encouraging look from Professor D, a amused looked from Harry, and a rather disgusted and amused look from Ron. Filled with hope, though he didn't really believe in true love, as it was something of fairy tales and- That's another story. He gave her a hasty peck, (having already used a breath mint before entering,) and scuttled, faster this time, out of the room.

Hermione did not move a muscle. Harry and Ron let out their breath, though neither realized they had been holding it.

Many more young men filed through the infirmary, and, by, lunch time, there was a lineup leading out into the hallway. Most were Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, (as many of the smart young men fancied a smart young woman,) though few Hufflepuffs showed up, as they are quite shy by nature.

Dumbledore watched it with a twinkle in his eye, though most were too preoccupied to notice.

On the third day, after a rather stressful second day, it was much the same, though the line was shorter, and most of the latecomers were Hufflepuffs, convinced by their friends from other houses. Hermione had yet to bat an eyelash to any of her young suitors, and Harry and Ron were surprisingly relieved. After five days, with many, many unsuccessful kisses, every young man in sixth and seventh year had gone. Except, of course, for the Slytherins.

So Friday evening found their esteemed Headmaster standing for attention in the Great Hall.

"Our current situation has not changed," he began, trying not to smile too widely. (As I said before, he knew more than anyone else in the hall, and, as most would, was quite enjoying it.) "I believe I will have to ask our dear Slytherins," he paused to let the boos die down, sending an apologetic look to the greasy-haired Professor at his side. "I will have to ask all young men in 6th and 7th years from Slytherin to participate."

There were many, many cries of rage, disgust, and sincere shock at being asked to do such a thing.

"Tomorrow, I will expect to see you all in the infirmary, and I will keep note of who arrives and who does not. Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley, if I may speak to you for a moment. To everyone else, dig in!"

They obliged, despite the dark mutterings at the table shadowed by a large silver and green banner, and Harry and Ron obliged their request.

"You two will have to participate soon," Dumbledore spoke, peering down at them. "If you would prefer, you may each give her a quick peck directly after dinner, and no one would be the wiser."

Harry took one look at Ron, who was blushing at staring at the hem of his robes, and decided it would be best to answer for the both of them. "That would be good. Thanks Professor."

Dumbledore gave a small nod of his head, and smiled as the two boys walked back to their table. Ron was trying to regain some control over his emotions and his skin tone, while Harry was pondering. Harry pondered an awful lot, especially during their current predicament, and was pleased to find he wasn't all that nervous about kissing one of his best friends.

After dinner, Harry and Ron trudged up the stairs. Harry felt as if he were walking through a large field of flowers, while Ron felt as if he were being led to the gas chambers. When they reached the hospital wing, Harry gave Ron an encouraging look as he pushed the door open.

Ron smiled grimly back, though his stomach felt as if butterflies were having a party in it. Harry gave Ron and amused an apprehensive look before leaning down to kiss Hermione.

Time seemed to slow down, and, if Ron had known anything about the muggle world, he would have compared it to watching sports replays multiple times. It had never occurred to him that Harry and Hermione might be destined for each other. OR rather, he'd known it was a possibility, but the full idea and the consequences of Harry's kiss, (if she woke up,) seemed to rush into his mind in that one moment.

He felt as if he needed to rush forward, telling Harry to stop, and kiss Hermione himself. There would be fireworks, he was sure of it, confetti, balloons, and Harry would pat him on the back. All would be well in the world, or so he thought. Without Ron realizing it, Harry had finished his kiss already, and was watching Hermione intently.

He was hoping and fearing that her eyes would flutter open, as he didn't know if he could deal with it. Surely he would love to have Hermione be his one true love; he knew he loved her in at least a platonic way. But he wasn't sure if he was ready to know who his true love was at such a young age, and what he and Hermione would do if they were a supposed couple. What's more, he didn't really want to brood on what Ron would think, since he was fairly sure it would throw him into a deep depression to have the girl he loved going out with his best friend.

Luckily, though, Hermione's eyes did not flutter open at all, nor did she move anymore than she had for any of the other boys who had come to her bedside. Harry, a little disappointed and a little relieved, broke Ron out of his reverie and pushed him forward.

For Ron, this was the ultimate moment of truth. This could make or break him, and he knew it, though there was always the possibility that he could steal her back from her true love if he wasn't the one. Or that true love doesn't always work, something which Ron firmly believed in since there was that faint shadow of doubt that he and Hermione were not meant to be.

He was so absorbed pondering about the consequences the kiss might have that he didn't even think about the kiss itself. He leaned down, seemingly in a daze, and kissed her. He, as I've said before, would have been much more pleased if she'd been awake for the encounter, as to see her reaction, but beggars can't be choosers, as they always say. (Please do not take this as an insult to Ron's financial situation in anyway. Such petty observations are only fit for the likes of Draco Malfoy.)

Ron pulled back. He sat for three minutes, watching. At the five minute mark, he was positive he saw an eyelash flutter, though Harry assured him it was just the draft in the room. He quickly responded that there was no draft, and clearly he and Hermione were destined. Harry didn't reply to that, seeing as how his words would have been harsh.

They sat for two hours after dinner, and not once were they disturbed by anyone. Ron didn't move. Finally, Harry ushered him out. All Ron could think of was what he would do, how he could make Hermione love him.

All Harry could think about was that her apparent true love would have to be a Slytherin. There was a faint tickle in the back of his mind, and that tickle was Draco Malfoy. He quickly ushered it away. It would not do to think such things.


	5. Weakness

Draco Malfoy was the last young man to have to kiss Hermione Granger, and he was going to put it off for as long was humanly (or wizardly, whichever way seems most correct to you) possible. And he was doing an awfully good job of it, as Dumbledore could clearly see. He felt it was his duty to bring together the three young men who he knew to be most greatly involved with Ms. Granger's current…Predicament.

Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, and Ronald Weasley, two of whom were quite happy to join him in his office, and the other of the three who had seen it coming and was not entirely pleased at putting the inevitable kiss off any longer.

Dumbledore looked down at the three boys seated uncomfortably before him and grinned. "Mr. Malfoy is our last resort when it comes to Ms. Granger," Dumbledore spoke, and then opened his withered mouth to continue.

He was, unfortunately, cut off by Harry, who was looking rather stunned and defiant at once. "Her soul mate could be anyone Professor! He doesn't necessarily have to be at this school!"

"Nor does he have to be a he," Malfoy responded, sneering and smirking all at once, which is a feat that, up until he turned five, was thought to be utterly impossible.

Ron and Harry glared daggers at him while Dumbledore tried not to match the young Slytherin's smirk, for, as I have said before, he knew something the three of them didn't. Well, actually, Draco did know, as it had a lot to do with his personal tastes, but he didn't know how it applied at all to the matter at hand.

"Nor does he have to be in the age group we have set out. But I have a hunch," Dumbledore responded, though at this word all three boys shared glances, be it of doubt or mockery.

"A hunch isn't very much to work on," Ron spoke up finally, blushing at having three sets of eyes on him but also feeling very proud of himself for having voiced his opinion.

"Professor, with all due respect," Malfoy began, not looking like he meant at all, nor that he would ever mean it, "You did detail that kissing her was entirely voluntary."

"It's a simple kiss, Mr. Malfoy. I'm sure it's not something you're afraid of?" Dumbledore asked his trademark twinkling fairly evident. Trying to goad the young boy into a simple kiss would not be too difficult.

"I don't think it's a good idea, Professor," Harry spoke again.

"At least walk, the four of us, to the infirmary," Dumbledore suggested as if it were a simple, innocent thought that had merely meandered into his head as opposed to part of a certain plan of his.

Harry and Ron nodded and sighed, while Malfoy sneered but began to follow the other three anyways. He was as evil as everyone thought him to be, this is for certain, but he had never really had any true intentions to kill anyone. As grave as his life had been, as full of malice and hate and spite as he was, he did not enjoy inflicting death on others. He did, however, enjoy inflicting pain, and he was trying to find a way to work the entire situation in his favour. And while the black hamster with red eyes in his brain ran furtively on it's wheel, Harry and Ron were looking horrified as they walked behind him.

Perhaps it was because they were thinking about the test they had coming up in Potions, but I'd be inclined to doubt that as the true reason. Instead, Harry was horrified that the nagging thought in the back of his head that had been Draco Malfoy had suddenly because a neon sign in his head, accompanied by rather loud warning bells. Malfoy absolutely, positively, could not be Hermione's soul mate. If he was, per say, though Harry knew it couldn't be true, Ron would kill himself, Hermione probably would too, and then he'd be friendless. Or he's kill himself as well.

But, he though to himself, dragging his thoughts away from things like death and thinking on the single positive thought he could muster- Malfoy absolutely, positively, would not kiss Hermione. And so he relaxed. Slightly.

Ron, however, was not thinking of death, but nor was he anywhere near calm. The very thought of Malfoy kissing Hermione sent him reeling into a black spiral of bad thoughts perhaps even worse than Harry's, which involved a few weddings, one or two affairs, and a handful of murders and suicides alike. So it was, all in all, a good thing that the three boys were not sharing their thoughts with each other, or some sort of absolutely chaos may have occurred.

Dumbledore, who was walking ahead of the three boys, was feeling rather pleased with himself. Now, if you think back to the first chapter, you will remember I mentioned something about Dumbledore's plans and his knowledge of one of Draco Malfoy's weaknesses. It is at this point in the story that you learn what his weakness is- coconut lip gloss.

Draco Malfoy has always been partial to coconut flavoured foods, and partial to the girl he is with at any point in time smelling like coconut. However, it's not a particularly popular scent in the wizarding world, and so he will often be driven to absolutely mad things when he does happen across the scent or flavour.

And how do you get a positively spiteful boy to kiss a girl who may or may not be his soul mate who he, in turn, has absolutely, positively no intention of kissing? You tempt him with a flavour and scent he is addicted to. And so our esteemed professor Dumbledore has told Madame Pomfrey that she is to apply a layer of coconut lip gloss to Hermione's lips.

When the party of four arrived in the hospital wing, their thoughts were much the same, as were their expressions. Though Draco Malfoy's expression changed substantially as the smell of coconut wafted over to him, and he tried to fight the urge to go near it, and instead attempted to focus on whatever Dumbledore was babbling about.

But he couldn't. Instead, he began to walk slowly towards the scent, which was, of course, coming from Hermione. As Dumbledore watched in amusement and Harry and Ron in bewilderment and then horror, Draco Malfoy leaned down and kissed Hermione Granger square on the lips.

**A/N: Sorry the update took forever- I have a small legion of fans and by failing to update, I may have none. If you're still there, review. And sorry this is so short.**


	6. Aftermath

Ron was, at this moment, rather close to hyperventilating. And one would assume that, as he was in an infirmary, this wouldn't have been a problem, but Madame Pomfrey was tending to a second year who had been jinxed with a charm a fellow classmate had made up on their own, and it was taking a rather long time to figure out how to reverse it. Professor Dumbledore would have had enough training to help poor Ronald if he had actually begun to hyperventilate, but unfortunately he was riveted on the figures of Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger. Harry was also watching, and he wouldn't have known what to do anyways.

Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, as has been mentioned, where otherwise engaged and therefore in no position to help Ron. Ron, while breathing heavily and generally doing something which is commonly referred to as 'freaking out', wasn't think much beyond the lines of a rather dramatic and loud "NOOOO!" which was resonating through his head.

Harry, on the other hand, was watching the scene unfold with a sort of disgusted rapture that could only be compared to a young male watching a chick flick- a mix of horror and curiosity was plainly evident on his face. As Harry watched, he saw it in slow motion, like the play-back on his omnioculars at the Quidditch World Cup the summer before fourth year. And watching Draco Malfoy's lips purse in slow motion was not something he'd ever imagine, not even in his worst nightmares.

Professor Dumbledore was feeling a mixture of accomplishment and giddiness, the accomplishment having come from completed a task that he'd long to do since the four students in front of him had entered Hogwarts, and the giddiness coming from thinking about what horrible things he would have to deal with in terms of Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, should he be correct in his assumptions. But that is not all he was thinking. He was also thinking about buying a new bag of lemon drops, as his old stash was running dry very quickly, much to his horror.

Draco Malfoy was wondering what he was doing kissing a mudblood, why he had to love coconut so much, why Dumbledore had known about this particular weakness, how much he would have to bribe others to not tell anyone about it, whether or not The-Boy-Who-Couldn't-Take-A-Hint-And-Die and Weasel were going to try to beat him up, and also that Hermione Granger's lips were surprisingly soft.

Hermione Granger was thinking something along the lines of What happened? By the time she realized she was being kissed passionately by someone, that particular someone had pulled away and Harry and Ron had crowded her vision. Then she wondered briefly if one of them had woken her up, but soon everything was explained to her.

Three hours later, once Hermione was fully sure she was not still dreaming and it was possible to make a sleeping beauty-type spell, she began to become a little worried. The sly look on Dumbledore's face told her that there was something he knew that she didn't, and, judging by Harry and Ron's shock and slight disgust at the events that had occurred, they didn't know either.

And she highly doubted that Draco Malfoy was plotting with Professor Dumbledore about anything that could involve kissing her. She was also very surprised that Draco Malfoy had kissed her at all, and had also taken into account that Dumbledore had skirted around the questions pertaining to that matter in a particularly skilled way.

"Granger."


	7. Conversations and Realizations

Now, most young women long for the greater part of their teenage years for a handsome young man, perhaps with platinum blonde hair that has a habit of falling in his eyes in a rather sexy way, to call out to them for one purpose or another, but at this moment Hermione Granger wasn't sure if she was pleased at all to hear the voice of none other than Draco Malfoy. The day had held some rather odd events as it was, and she wasn't exactly sure why Dumbledore's eyes had been twinkling so merrily before, but she was almost positive it didn't bode well for her in the Malfoy situation.

"Malfoy," she replied, turning to face him and trying to appear nonchalant, not sure if she should blush or smile or be her usual self in his presence, and finding herself doing a strange mixture of all three. She was curious to talk to him as she couldn't for the life of her understand why someone who hated her would kiss her. Especially why he would kiss her as more than a peck, making it, in Hermione's books, a rather good kiss; despite her kissing partner. Or rather it was because of her kissing partner that it had been a good kiss, but because he was Malfoy it shouldn't have been a good kiss. Or, at least, she shouldn't have enjoyed it as much as she had.

"Granger, are you there?" Malfoy asked, raising his eyebrows in her general direction and looking like he wanted to bolt down the hall the way he'd come.

"Well that's a silly question," Hermione responded curtly, feeling the blush slide from her cheeks and the smile drop away, leaving only her usual self to manage in such an awkward situation.

"Why do you have to wear coconut flavoured lip gloss?" He questioned, seemingly out of the blue.

Hermione was momentarily taken aback, and proceeded to spend a few moments staring at his questioningly before she actually answered his rather abrupt question. "I don't. I think it's icky."

Malfoy decided to ignore her lack of eloquence and put it down to the fact that he was amazingly sexy and the fact that it was a rather awkward conversation to begin with. Instead he looked at the bigger picture- namely, that she didn't wear coconut lip gloss. "Well, you are right now."

"And how would you know?" Hermione responded haughtily, not knowing exactly why it bothered her that Draco Malfoy was dictating what kind of lip gloss she was wearing and wondering if Miss Manners had ever had a particular rule about young men and lip gloss.

"Because I kissed you earlier," Malfoy responded, choosing to sound sarcastic and roll his eyes at her rather than feel the onslaught of embarrassment and self-consciousness that came with the words he had spoken.

Hermione licked her lips thoughtfully. Draco Malfoy decided she was just testing and not trying to be sexy in any way, shape, or form, despite her success at it. "It is coconut!" Hermione exclaimed, and Malfoy once again fought an urge- this time to say something along the lines of 'Duh!'. "But I never wear coconut lip gloss."

"Aha!" Malfoy said, sounding rather like a character for an old movie and looking the part too as he stuck his finger up in the air triumphantly.

Hermione looked at him with a mixture of bemusement, and perplexity, and then decided to take the bait. "What's 'Aha!'?"

"You couldn't possibly be my soul mate if you don't love coconut lip gloss!" He proclaimed, the look of utter triumph still apparent on his face.

"Soul mate?" Hermione Granger was utterly and completely confused. They had said it was a love spell, this was true. But Harry and Ron had assured her that the fact that Malfoy, of all the young men in Hogwarts, had been able to wake her up was simply a fluke. Of course, it was probably more accurate to say that they had been reassuring themselves and, whilst they did care for her, were too far into shock to really worry what she may or may not have done with that information.

There was a rather awkward silence, a pregnant pause, a gap in between words that seemed to draw on and on. It had a lot to do with the fact that Draco Malfoy wasn't entirely certain he'd been acting like his usual debonair self a few moments before, or how to deal with a young lady who'd just received the information that the young man standing in front of her, a young man who she had hated for the greater part of her school career, may or may not have been her soul mate. But most of all Draco Malfoy was incredibly preoccupied from all his innermost thoughts by the rather shallow thought of watching Hermione Granger lick her lips repeatedly as she stood, deeply in thought.

Hermione, for her part, wasn't quite sure what to with the information she had just been handed in a rather abrupt and awkward way, or what might have been going through the mind of the young man who had woken her up and who had hated her for the greater part of his school career pertaining to the kiss and coconut lip gloss. Most of all, however, Hermione Granger was focused almost completely on that one strand of lovely blonde hair that continued to fall across the right side of his forehead in a rather annoying sort of way.

And so our young heroes, young characters, young lovers, if you will, did they only thing they could do. They let their lips meet in a kiss and proceeded on from there in such a way that Professor McGonagall would have been scandalized to see them. On the other side of the castle, Albus Dumbledore sat with his eyes twinkling as he contemplated his serious lack of lemon drops.


	8. Epilogue

**A/N: This is the end. I'm so sorry that I left you without an update for so long, but I spent a year getting used to living in a new place and now I'm ready to continue my fanfiction writing and reading. Which means that I'm writing this, the last chapter of a story that I found obscenely fun to write. Anyways, final comments (hopefully compliments) are greatly appreciated. Enjoy!**

To say that the entire Sleeping Beauty fairy tale is a load of hogwash would seem to be, in most cases, entirely accurate. For one, the concept itself is far-fetched and merely an indulgence of what little girls dream of – or what they are meant to dream of- for when they get older. To think that a princess (which we no longer have) would be put under a sleeping spell (which only wizards have) until said princess has her true love's kiss (spells like that are nearly impossible to accomplish, and also serve no real purpose, in the long run) and said true love (who believes in true love anymore anyways?) has to fight a dragon (a dragon wouldn't stick around that long without food) to get to the top tower of the castle she's in (how have the Muggles not noticed this castle – or, for that matter, the dragon?). And don't even get me started on the business of the spinning wheel.

So you see, the entire concept is implausible, improbable, and downright ridiculous.

However. If you were to speak to Albus Dumbledore, he would tell you that while the Sleeping Beauty myth may seem implausible, improbably, and downright ridiculous, it hadn't stopped young love from blossoming between two people who had previously, if you'll pardon my lack of flowery words, hated each other's guts, through a sleeping spell of such a sort that was described earlier. Only there was no dragon, which was probably a good thing, because Draco Malfoy was a rather grudging "prince" and mostly likely wouldn't have fought a dragon to win Hermione Granger.

However. If you were to speak to Harry Potter, he would tell you that the Sleeping Beauty fairy tale is implausible, improbably, and downright ridiculous, and really it's just a faze Hermione is going through, or perhaps Draco Malfoy has drugged her in some, or she's merely recovering from her ordeal. It has absolutely nothing to do with soul mates in any way, shape, or form. Downright ridiculous, is what Harry Potter would say.

And if you were to attempt to speak to Ronald Weasley on the matter, you would find that he was most probably in hysterics or yelling obscenities and anyone and everyone who tried to talk to him, so it is probably not best to attempt to speak to Ronald Weasley on the matter.

However. If you spoke to Draco Malfoy, he would tell you to bugger off, most probably because he would be wooing said young love, Hermione Granger, or perhaps doing his homework, because deep down, Draco Malfoy really is a decent human being. But if you somehow managed to pry Draco away from his homework or his girlfriend, he would most likely tell you that no, he'd never had feelings for Hermione Granger before the entire Sleeping Beauty thing and, despite that it was ridiculous, it had happened, hadn't it? Somehow he and Granger – because he still does not refer to her as Hermione, nor does she refer to him as Draco under any circumstances – had found a way to lead a relatively happy and healthy relationship, and that's just how it is.

And if you spoke to Hermione Granger, she would tell you that the idea of eternal love was ridiculous, and that she didn't love Draco Malfoy, she merely liked him strongly, and she was happy she could. She'd spent such an awful long time without a young man who would act like a proper gentleman around her – because, though she loves Ron and Harry, they are just not gentleman – and she and Malfoy somehow connect, and that's just how it is.


End file.
